Love Me Or
by Alyx Bradford
Summary: At the celebration of Bellatrix Black's engagement to Rodolphus Lestrange, the Black sisters and their respective significant others are given cause to ponder the nature and meaning of love, and whether or not it exists. One-shot.


_Authoress's Notes:  
__I'll say right now that this story ran away with itself after only a few paragraphs. I love it when the stories do that. Not having any control over the characters is such a wild, heady feeling. Terrifying, sometimes, but still thrilling.  
__Originally written for the Valentine's Day Challenge on Toujours Pur._

_I dedicate this story to my friend Heather, because without her, I would still have no respect for Rodolphus. ;) _

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**Love Me Or**

_"Blue eyes say: Love me or I die; black eyes say: love me or I kill thee."  
--Spanish proverb_

"I still don't understand why you don't go for the younger one, the blonde," Rabastan Lestrange said, kicking his heels up on the coffee table. "Seems to me she'd be much more manageable." He and his elder brother, Rodolphus, had just entered the Green Room, which was, unsurprisingly, decorated verdantly. Where their own parents had been rather too imaginative with names, as far as Rabastan was concerned, their ancestors had apparently been somewhat shorter on creativity.

"First off," Rodolphus replied as he poured a shot of Firewhiskey and passed it to his brother, "their parents would never marry off the younger sister before the elder. It just isn't done. Secondly," as he poured a shot for himself, "from what I know of Narcissa, she barely has the wit to string two sentences together. That's not the sort of trait I want passed down to my children. And thirdly--" He paused a moment to knock back the shot, then grinned. "I like Bellatrix."

Rabastan snorted derisively. "Like her round breasts, tiny waist, and child-bearing hips, you mean."

"Well, that too," Rodolphus admitted. "But she has spirit that her sister lacks. It should keep life interesting."

"One's wife is not supposed to be interesting, Rodolphus," Rabastan said, throwing one arm over the emerald velvet couch. "That's what mistresses are for."

Rodolphus grinned and shook his head, causing a few strands of black hair to come loose from his low ponytail. He had no way of making Rabastan understand, but he had been infatuated with Bellatrix for years, ever since that summer she had gone away a feisty and pretty but definitely still childish girl, and come back a strong, vibrant young woman. The change, so sudden and intense, like everything about her, had amazed him, and he, along with most of the other boys in Hogwarts, had been entranced.

There was more to it than that, however. Rabastan was probably right, or at least his viewpoint was that of most of their set. Even if Bellatrix had married someone else, Rodolphus could have, perhaps, coaxed her into an affair, at least after a few years, the heir, and the spare. After all, Bellatrix was a woman of wild and passionate inclinations, known during her school years for behaving with a certain autocracy that shocked some of the other girls. But that wouldn't have been enough. When Rodolphus looked at Bellatrix, something within his soul was spurred with the urge to own, to possess, to know that he and no other had her keeping. And to be able to lord it over the rest of the men who had pursued her, those men who had all been boys together, back when she reigned over them at school. He had fought several of them for her, in earlier years, whether for the honour of escorting her to a ball or for the chance to steal a kiss. Rodolphus had lost a few of those fights, but he had won _her_ in the end. He poured himself another shot of Firewhiskey, a toast to his victory, and smiled as he drank.

Rabastan caught the look on his brother's face and sat upright. "Sweet Salazar," he muttered. "Are you in love with her?" he asked, incredulous.

Rodolphus scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. Love is a game for fools and poets."

This answer apparently satisfied Rabastan, because he sat back, relaxing, again. "Good. You had me worried for a moment. Being in love with one's wife is even worse than finding her interesting."

* * *

The celebration of Bellatrix's engagement to Rodolphus was a lavish affair, an afternoon garden party, followed by a banquet dinner, and culminating in a grand ball. The Blacks had, in true Black fashion, spared absolutely no expense, unable to deny their treasured daughter even the slightest of her caprices when it came to her demands for the party.

Bellatrix had, after a prolonged fight with her mother, been allowed to choose her own gowns for the day. Clytemnestra had wanted her in pastels, like a proper young bride-to-be, but Bellatrix had never in her life submitted readily to wearing anything her mother thought suitable. Narcissa had watched patiently as Bella went through her traditional cycle of resistance: first suggesting alternatives, then being outright stubborn, then a fair good pout, and finally losing her temper and shrieking to the heavens that she would not go about looking like a sugared candy.

Narcissa, of course, was much more pliable, and had put on a pale blue gown without any fuss whatsoever. The style was graceful and elegant, almost Grecian, as empire waistlines and scooped necklines had always favoured the pale, willowy girl. Cissa agreed, though, that her sister should not be put in pastels. They were, after all, watered down, weaker colours, suitable for a girl of her own nature, but not for Bellatrix, who was always bold and never did anything in half measures.

The argument ended when Orion, who had heard Bellatrix shrieking half a wing away, paused in the doorway for half a minute. "For the love of glory, Clytemnestra, let the girl wear what she pleases. Her fashion sense may not be conventional, but at least she never looks a fool in frippery and lace like you do." Orion smiled indulgently at his favoured child, whose expression had gone from demonic to angelic the instant he had appeared. "It is, after all, her day." Clytemnestra had never had the will to stand up to her husband, and so for the afternoon Bella had put on one of her favourite crimson gowns, corseted tightly to show off her figure. It was a silken masterpiece, and when Clytemnestra tried to protest that the matching ruby necklace was too much for the afternoon, Bellatrix shot her such a look that the older woman actually stumbled.

It was Narcissa who saved her mother in that regard. "Bella dear, perhaps you shouldn't wear so many jewels so soon," she coaxed in her sweet voice. "After all, you'll hardly be able to outdo yourself, and wouldn't you rather people remember how you glowed at the ball than how dazzling you were in the afternoon?"

Bellatrix considered this for a moment. The dress she had picked out for the ball that evening was her most stunning, and the thought of undermining herself gave her pause. "I suppose you're right, Cissa," she said, unclasping the necklace and dropping it on her vanity. Clytemnestra shot her younger daughter a grateful look.

The three women went downstairs to join Orion in receiving their guests. Most of the guests hardly noticed Clytemnestra, who was lurking in the background, or Narcissa, who demurely stood beside her boisterous sister and made quiet hellos. Attention was focused on Bellatrix, who commanded it, and Orion, the head of the family, near to bursting with pride for his darling.

Orion's brother Procyon, his wife Elaine, and their son Regulus were among the first to arrive. Regulus had not yet outgrown the awkwardness of youth, and grinned shyly at Bellatrix and Narcissa as the older men grasped wrists warmly. There was, of course, no mention of Bellatrix's first, failed engagement. Orion and Procyon had a tacit understanding regarding the eldest child of each, and no one had ever dared break the taboo against them.

"And how is our little Bellatrix?" Procyon said, grinning at the girl, with her dark curls so like his own and Orion's. The family resemblance among them, and both of Procyon's sons, had always been strong. "But not so little now, I think," he added, chucking her under the chin. "As beautiful as ever, though. Has your young man arrived?"

"Not yet, Uncle Procyon," Bellatrix replied, grinning.

"Excited? Well, of course you are. Fine young lady you've raised, Orion." Procyon did not bother to give Narcissa much more than a passing glance and obligatory compliment. Nearby, Elaine was trying to draw Clytemnestra into conversation, and Clytemnestra was trying, as politely as possible, to avoid her. The frail blonde looked extremely grateful when Procyon ushered his wife away.

Shortly thereafter arrived the Malfoys, Hadrian and his son Lucius, twenty-three now and looking more like his father every day. Bellatrix couldn't suppress a smirk when Lucius greeted her somewhat coldly; once upon a time, he'd been among her suitors as well, but he had given up the chase after a long and loud fight, which Bellatrix considered she'd won, no matter what anyone else had to say about it. Now, though, his eye fell with favour on Narcissa. Bellatrix did not notice this, of course. As soon as someone had ceased to pay attention to her, they ceased to be interesting, and so she did not see the kind expression on his face when he brought Cissa's alabaster hand to his lips, nor did she mark the red blush on her younger sister's white cheeks.

Rodolphus arrived later than most of the guests, wearing the black that suited him so well and a devilish grin. Trailing behind him were his father, Robur, and his younger brother Rabastan. Rodolphus and his father were both tall and broad, men of naturally imposing countenances, but Rabastan favoured his mother more, and though his looks were dark as well, he was smaller and, standing beside his brother, looked somehow unfinished.

After giving Orion a deferential bow, Rodolphus took the hand of his intended and brought it to his lips. "Mia Bella," he drawled, "you are absolutely radiant."

"Yes, I know," she smirked, looking up at him with a glow in her eyes. She let him call her "mia Bella" because it sounded so lovely, especially in his voice, smooth and rich as dark chocolate. But saying it didn't make it true, and she vowed never would. She wasn't his; her soul already belonged to another. They had their pet names for each other in Italian as an in-joke, dating from their days at school, when Bellatrix had once insulted Rodolphus blisteringly in the language, not expecting him to understand a word, and he had astounded her by replying in kind.

For most of the morning, Bellatrix and Rodolphus were side by side as they meandered through the gardens. It was the first time they were appearing at a public function as an affianced couple, and the first chance most of their peers had to congratulate them. Bellatrix accepted it all as a queen's due, smirking when she saw the flickers of jealousy in some eyes. Rodolphus was a catch, there could be no argument, and many of the girls now saying how happy they were for Bellatrix had once competed to draw the elder Lestrange brother's attention away from her. Bellatrix, naturally, had never needed to compete; her mere presence won her the game. As for the men, their envy inflated Bella's pride as well. Those who had never been her beaux could afford to be genuinely happy for Rodolphus and the match he'd made, but that was a rather small percentage of the pureblooded gentlemen their age. Most shook Rodolphus's hand in a somewhat steely manner, and averted their eyes from Bellatrix's smug smile as quickly as possible.

When she sat down for the first time in hours, upon a cushioned lawn chair in view of the orchards, Narcissa excused herself from conversation with Cador Paschent and Renwein Haleforth and flitted to Bellatrix's side. "Mr Lestrange, might I steal my sister away from you for a short time?"

Rodolphus gave Narcissa the indulgent sort of smile one usually gave children. "Of course, Miss Black."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I just bloody sat down, Cissa," she complained, but stood anyway, letting Narcissa draw her away from her fiancé and the crowd.

The two young women wandered away from the group of people, walking around the hedge maze and towards the shimmering lake. "I just wanted a bit of time," Narcissa said. "It just hit me, really, that I'll be losing you. I don't know what I'll do without you here." She slipped her hand around Bellatrix's waist. "It shall be so quiet."

"It's not as though I'm leaving soon," Bellatrix pointed out. "We haven't even set a date yet, but it won't be until next spring, at the earliest. And anyway, you'll still have Mother and Father."

"You know Father ignores me, and Mama is so quiet most of the time anyway." Narcissa gave a soft little sigh, like a fatigued kitten. "I'm going to miss you, Bella."

Bella's general inclination when Narcissa got too sentimental was to reply with enough cynicism to balance it out. But this time, she smiled at her younger sister, and bent to kiss the pale forehead. "I'm going to miss you, too, Cissa."

Narcissa gave her a radiant smile, then took her sister's hand and flounced ahead a few steps, pulling Bellatrix along with her. "I just can't believe there won't be any more summers like this one," she said as she sat down on a patch of grass.

Bellatrix sat beside her, and let Narcissa wind an arm about her waist. "I'm afraid it's called growing up, Cissa. Who knows? By this time next year, it might be your engagement we're celebrating."

A giggle like a wind chime escaped the blonde. "Do you really think so, Bella? I'd only just be out of school..."

"You know perfectly well Mother and Father have been considering offers ever since you turned sixteen." Bellatrix smiled slightly, tucking one of Narcissa's fair curls behind her ear.

"I suppose you're right." Of course, it had taken more than three years to secure a fiancé for Bellatrix, but there had been extenuating circumstances in that case. "And Regulus will marry sooner or later, too. I think I heard Aunt Elaine talking about one of the Warrington girls for him, actually. And then none of us will be children anymore."

"Don't let it grieve you, sweet," Bella said. "We'll have our own children, then, and think of how it will be to bring them back here."

Cissa's face was transformed into a heavenly smile. "Oh, yes! Lots of children! How many do you think you'll have, Bella?"

"Three," she answered decisively. "The heir and the spare for Rodolphus, of course." A grin crept over her lips. "And then a little girl for me."

Narcissa sighed wistfully. "You two are going to have beautiful children."

"Yes, we are," Bellatrix answered with certainty.

The pale cheeks brightened with her smile, and Narcissa continued, "And you'll bring them back here, and Reggie and I will bring our children, and they can all play together. It will be just like..." She cut herself off, and if Bellatrix noticed, she did not say. A silence followed, and then, "Do you miss them?" Narcissa asked.

"Who?"

"You know who."

Bellatrix drew a deep breath, and let it out as something between a sigh and a hiss. "No. Not in the least."

Narcissa drew her knees up to her chest, hugging her arms around them. "I do. Siri, at least. To be perfectly honest, I don't remember much about Andi—" Bellatrix flinched, and Narcissa bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Bella, I forgot how you—"

"Just don't, will you? I don't like this conversation." Bellatrix's eyes had taken on their hardened look, so metallically rigid but not cold. Her eyes could never be frigid, not when her moods were fueled by such explosive hatred.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Cissa said again, looping both her arms around her sister. They had been getting on so well all day, and Narcissa didn't want to ruin that now. "Forget I said anything at all." Bellatrix stayed stiff for a moment, then relented, relaxing her tense back and allowing her head to drop to touch Narcissa's. Cissa shut her eyes, smiling, and Bellatrix stared out at the lake, and neither of them heard the footsteps from behind them.

Lucius, who had wandered towards the lake out of boredom, couldn't imagine what the two Black sisters were discussing, with their heads bent together in the fading light, but he didn't think it prudent to interrupt. It certainly made a pretty picture, though, with the lake in the distance, and the shadow of sunset making its steady advance over the grass. For the moment, the sisters were still in the sun, and Lucius found himself captivated by the way the pale, rosy rays were bouncing off of Narcissa's flaxen hair. Her blonde locks, so near in colour to his own, but with a gentle curl to them, reflected the brilliant glory of the sun's prismed light. Her hair seemed almost an extension of the sky, with one tendril displaying a faint orange, another the posy pink, and one just by her ear glowing the brilliant white found in a thin line at the horizon.

Bellatrix was different. Her hair did not reflect the light; it captured it. Her dark curls were a spiraling labyrinth that the sunset wandered into, only to be trapped, without hope of escape. Bella's hair glowed, to be sure, but that was because it had taken the light as its own, not because it reflected it back out at the world like Narcissa's did. And there was an aura of impending doom with Bellatrix; she had captured the light, and she could snuff it out whenever she so chose.

Lucius shook his head slightly. He wasn't generally given to such poetic musings, and of course it was nothing he'd ever voice out loud, but something about Narcissa seemed to inspire more sentimental thoughts in him.

Darkness swept in ever closer, but the Black sisters paid it no mind. They were still in the sun, still in the warmth of afternoon. Lucius, though, decided to return to the rest of the party, and turned his back on the two young women, Narcissa with the sunset in her hair, and Bellatrix's dark locks threatening midnight.

"I do miss him," Bellatrix said after a long while. Narcissa wanted to look up at her in shock, but feared that doing so might make Bella stop talking, and so she stayed still with her head on her sister's shoulder. "Most days I can forget what it was like, all those years when we were so young, but others..." She shrugged, as though doing so would slough off the thought. "Other days it's harder."

"Today especially, I'd imagine," Narcissa said, careful to keep her voice serene and coaxing. She wanted to hear Bellatrix speak about this; for all that Bella's moods were constantly out in the open for everyone to know, her inner feelings were much more carefully guarded, and rarely spoken of, particularly when she found them distressing. "With Uncle Procyon here..."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Yes, that has made things rather more interesting. Neither of them will say it, but he and Father are both thinking about how this day should have gone." She was quiet for a moment, and Narcissa was afraid she'd lost her chance again. But Bella continued, "It's honestly not even that so much, though. I look around here, and I remember..." She sighed. "So many summers. So many holidays." She turned her head towards Narcissa, and there was a softness in her eyes that Cissa had only seen a few times in her life. "We used to have such fun."

"We were very young then," Narcissa said solemnly.

"Yes..." As quickly as it had appeared, the softness vanished, replaced by Bella's usual obsidian stalwartness. "I suppose that's the naïveté of childhood. No sense dwelling on what's past." The shadow of sunset had fallen over her face at last, casting her dark eyes in an even dimmer light.

"No... of course not..." Narcissa replied softly. She knew that Bella hated to think of the past; she found it tedious at best and painful at worst, to remember times that had been easier, simpler, more innocent. Narcissa, however, took comfort in them, and secluded herself among such memories often.

"Now come on, then," Bella said, standing and taking Narcissa's arm so that she did the same. "It's starting to get chilly, and we've got to go change before supper."

Narcissa giggled. "I'd nearly forgotten. It's the best thing about all parties like this, isn't it? Getting to wear so many lovely gowns all in one day. Are you wearing your green dress for dinner, then?"

"Yes, and my jade jewelry, and I'd just like to see Mother try and stop me."

* * *

After an uneventful dinner, the Black sisters helped each other to change for the ball. Narcissa was wearing a demure white Grecian gown, as befitted a virginal young lady, with her hair swept up in an elegant chignon. Bellatrix donned a dress of golden silk, cut low over her bosom and tight around her waist. Narcissa smiled as she helped to pin her sister's hair into a cascade of black curls. "You look lovely, Bella," she said, as Bellatrix fiddled with her cosmetics, outlining her eyes with kohl and painting her lips their usual inviting crimson. "What jewels are you wearing?"

"My rubies, since I didn't wear them this morning." Narcissa made a soft sighing sound, prompting Bella to snap, "What?"

"It's just... well, perhaps the earrings, but you'd look ever so much more elegant if you wore your pearls."

Bellatrix stared in the mirror for a moment, envisioning both necklaces in turn. "You think?"

"I do." Narcissa giggled. "And I can wear mine, and we'll look darling. Just like sisters ought to."

This was a gamble on Narcissa's part. In a certain mood, Bellatrix would either refuse to wear her pearls or forbid Narcissa to wear hers, just to make sure she would stand out, but their afternoon conversation must have put Bellatrix in what, for her, passed as a sentimental mood, because after a moment's contemplation, she said, "Alright. Fetch them for me, would you?"

Narcissa did so obediently, and fastened the double-strand of black pearls around her sister's neck, then left Bellatrix to finish her makeup. When she returned, slipping her own pearls on, along with a matching bracelet, Bellatrix stood, asking, "Are we ready, then?" Narcissa nodded, and went to link arms with her sister as they headed downstairs towards the ballroom.

"Bellatrix," Narcissa asked as they walked, "you're going to think I'm silly for asking this—"

"Then spare yourself the trouble, and don't," Bella teased.

"But did you ever consider making a love match?"

Bellatrix gave an inelegant snort. "Cissa, you're brighter than you let everyone believe, but you're really still too naïve. Love isn't real. It's something storytellers invented to induce people to breed when they haven't got any other reasons." She glanced sideways at Narcissa. "_You're_ not expecting to marry for love, are you?"

Narcissa realised she'd wandered into dangerous territory. Bellatrix associated love matches with their sister's betrayal; love and treachery were inextricably linked in her mind, and thus she found the idea repellent, base, low. Narcissa answered in a carefully careless voice, "Of course not, Bella. I didn't mean you should _marry_ for love. I meant marrying someone you might _come_ to love, after a time. That's not uncommon, after all."

Bellatrix's temper was deflected, but she still shook her head resolutely. "That's just something people tell themselves when they can't recognise the greater virtues of the marriage. I don't need to love Rodolphus. I like him and I respect him, enough of the time. He is wealthy enough to maintain my lifestyle, and he will be a good father for our children. Most importantly, we have the same ideals, we think the same way, and so we make a good team. _Those_, Cissa, are the things that build a good marriage."

"And those things don't add up to love?" Narcissa asked.

It was not an innocently posed question. If it had been, Bellatrix could have brushed it off as a younger sister's silliness, but Narcissa had asked in earnest, sombre tones, and so Bellatrix released an irritated sigh. "Don't be an idiot, Cissa," she said, exasperated. "I just told you, love doesn't really exist. If you have to create it to link those elements together, your marriage is weak and will fall apart in the end. A pretended emotion isn't strong enough to hold a relationship together."

"What would you do if you ever found Rodolphus confessed love for you?" Cissa asked, as they rounded the corner and came into sight of the ballroom entrance.

"Laugh at him," Bellatrix replied, even as she met eyes with her husband-to-be. "And never let him forget his weakness. But that won't happen. I told you, we think the same way." With a haughty lift of her chin, Bellatrix left Narcissa's side and strode to Rodolphus. He bowed to her, though only the Black sisters saw his mocking smile as he did so. He lifted her left hand to his lips, and kissed not her fingers, but the diamond-and-ruby ring now adorning the third of them. The ring had been the object of much envy all afternoon and evening, and it suited Bellatrix well: glittering to just before the point of gaudiness. Any larger, any more ostentatious, and it would have crossed the line from beauty to vulgarity.

Among the benefits of this being Bella's engagement ball was that she was excused from the normal restrictions on how many times she could dance with a man in an evening. She changed partners often, laughing as she swept across the floor with various men, but always returned to Rodolphus. Bellatrix loved to dance, and found it all the more joyful with a man who knew how, and Rodolphus twirled her expertly around the ballroom. She refused to let him guide her entirely, however, making each dance a subtle battle for power, a teasing reminder of the fact that he was marrying no docile, easily handled creature. Rodolphus reacted splendidly, matching each move she made, raising the level of heat between them and caring little what any onlookers might think of it.

Narcissa, too, had been dancing, though not nearly as much as Bellatrix, and no more than three times with any one man. After her second waltz with Lucius Malfoy, she smiled serenely up at him and asked if he would accompany her for a refreshment. Lucius let Narcissa take his arm, and guided her to the refreshment table. He watched the way she moved, stepping so lightly as though to be floating, moving with a modest grace that Bellatrix eschewed.

"You're nothing like your sister, are you?" he asked, as the two blonds stepped off to the side of the room.

Narcissa smiled. "Not nothing, Mr Malfoy. We both have a very strong sense of family loyalty." A peal of laughter from the side of the room drew her attention. Bellatrix had taken a temporary break from dancing, and was standing with Rodolphus, Rabastan, and the two Warrington sisters, Delphinia and Magdalena. Her head was thrown back in mirth, and Rodolphus's arm was around her waist. "But I am not... loud, and I do not seek attention as she does. She needs it to survive, as most plants need sunlight." Her pink lips turned in the faintest of smiles at Lucius. "But if attention is sunlight, I am Devil's Snare."

That made Lucius smile, for reasons he couldn't quite identify yet. "You do not approve of her, do you?"

Narcissa looked back at him, her expression indicating that he had impressed her. "No, Mr Malfoy. I do not. I do not feel it all appropriate, the way she behaves."

"You mean her flirting, her... indiscretions?"

Something shrewd sparked amid the cornflower blues, confirming for Lucius that she was not the thoughtless ninny she let everyone believe her. "I mean, Mr Malfoy," she said, in tones so low as to barely be heard, "those activities for which she leaves the house after midnight, in a black robe and white mask, and from which she returns exhilarated, exhausted, and covered in blood." Her words and tone were dark, but all the while the placid smile did not leave her face. The juxtaposition might have been unnerving, had Lucius not himself been so accustomed to cloaking shadows with light.

"Does she know you know?" he asked, raising his champagne glass to his lips. From their tranquil, politely disinterested expressions, any onlooker might have thought Narcissa had trapped Lucius into a conversation about flower-arranging.

"Of course. She comes to me when she wishes to brag of her conquests, or when she's taken an injury she needs help cleaning up. Bellatrix tells me a great many things." Her eyes flicked in the briefest of instants to Lucius's left forearm, raised now holding his glass, and Narcissa did not need to say what Bellatrix had told her about him. "I love my sister, Mr Malfoy. I even admire her, sometimes, for being so strong, but I do not approve. Mr Lestrange has not bought himself a proper wife."

Lucius glanced to where Bellatrix and Rodolphus were dancing again, whirling about the floor so intensely that the act might have been foreplay. And perhaps it would turn out to be, knowing the two of them. "I think, perhaps, he would not desire differently." He looked back to Narcissa. "And you, Miss Black? What sort of wife will you make?" There was a soft but serious tone to his words, and Narcissa did not miss its importance.

She gazed up at him, speaking candidly, and Lucius found the honesty of her eyes infinitely appealing. "The sort of wife a young pureblood woman ought to be. I believe a woman's place is in the home, to bear and raise children and to keep the household running smoothly. A wife should be a helpmate to her husband, and a soothing balm for him when he returns from his work, whatever it might be." There was the shrewd gleam again; it seemed much more out of place in Narcissa's delicate blonde-lashed eyes than it did in Bellatrix's hard obsidians, where a glint was not unsurprising, but expected. "In return, I would ask only to be protected and provided for, respected for my station, and perhaps even loved a little, with time."

Lucius regarded her silently for a moment. Narcissa by no means _needed_ to be taken care of. She had money and intelligence enough of her own to get by if necessary. But the young woman did not desire independence; she asked instead for shelter. Lucius had once been attracted by exactly the opposite quality in her sister, entranced as so many men were by Bellatrix's fierce autocracy, her fiery refusal to be submissive, her forceful and direct nature. Now he found it harsh, even unnatural, and Narcissa's gentle intent to sign over sovereignty drew him much more. His life, his work, had enough chaos and discord; he had chosen it, built his life on it. But he did not wish that for his home.

He would speak to her father. Orion would not wish to announce anything until after Bellatrix's wedding; he would never do anything to detract attention from his favourite daughter, but there was no reason not to set things in motion now. Lucius set his champagne flute down on the tray of a passing servant, and took Narcissa's hand. After bringing the rosy-pale fingers to his lips, he gestured at the dance floor. "Shall we, Miss Black?"

At the same time one sister was being led onto the dance floor, another was being pulled off. Rodolphus and Bellatrix, intoxicated with wine and each other, escaped in what they clearly supposed was a stealthy manner out of the ballroom, and into one of the parlours across the hall. The room was small but lushly decorated, walls painted scarlet and furniture to match. There was only one small couch and a mahogany table, on which was set a crystal pitcher of water, a few goblets, and an ornate vase filled with fresh-bloomed red roses. Rodolphus pushed Bellatrix roughly against the door as it closed, lips descending on hers possessively. Bellatrix's hands curled around his neck as she hungrily pulled him close, arching her body against his. Rodolphus held her fast by the waist with one hand, sinking the other into her hair. Golden pins slipped from the sable locks and clattered to the floor. Bellatrix made no motion to stop him; she enjoyed the notoriety of returning to a ball with mussed hair.

When they finally parted, Rodolphus made a soft growling noise and grazed his teeth over Bellatrix's throat. She clung to him, responding with a mewl of pleasure that made him grin. "You are absolutely radiant tonight, mia Bella," he drawled, stroking her hair. "The brightest star in the heavens, to be sure."

Bellatrix laughed throatily, throwing her head back against the door. "I feel it, too. They're all watching _me_, envying _me_. I feel wonderful!"

Rodolphus nipped at her ear, and she practically purred. "There's not a woman here tonight who wouldn't kill to have your beauty and vitality, and not a man who doesn't wish he was me." He rubbed his thumb over her palm. "You are so full of life, _mia gioia_, and of passion." He pulled her closer, and even through the fabric of her gown, she could feel the evidence of _his_ passion.

Flicking her eyes up to him, Bella grinned and asked coyly, "Do they all want me like you do?"

"Most assuredly," he replied in a low tone. "But I'd thrash any man who dares to let you know it."

"I'll have to provoke someone into doing so, then," she said, leaning to trace her tongue around his ear. "You know how I love to see you work."

Rodolphus growled and grabbed her fiercely, pulling her into a passionate kiss, hands fumbling at her skirts. In another moment, her gown was pushed up around her waist and her legs were wrapped about his body as he braced her against the door. Their coupling was rough and quick, and when both had spent themselves, they remained locked in position for a moment, panting heavily and gasping to regain their breath, before Bellatrix unwound her legs from around Rodolphus's waist and let him guide her back down to the floor. They kissed once more, in a hazy, heat-drugged manner, before both fell to repairing appearances. Bellatrix picked up her pins and started shoving them back in her hair haphazardly, until Rodolphus caught her hand. "Let me." His voice was still heavy, and with a wry smile, she turned to let him toy with her hair. He pinned up the dark curls in an arrangement nothing like how they had begun the evening, then reached for once of the roses on the nearby table. Breaking off most of the thorny stem – no roses in the Black house were without thorns – and placed the bloom within the wild, spiraling fountain of raven hair. "There. Perfection, _mia __rosa__ canina_." Bellatrix thanked him with a beaming smile, and led him out of the parlour and back to the ballroom.

Narcissa could not help but notice her sister's reentrance. Her presence had been missed; it always was. The absence of one who always made herself the centre of attention was conspicuous, and when she returned, there could be no doubt what she and her betrothed had been doing. Narcissa could tell, even at a distance, how her hair was in disarray and her lips kiss-swollen.

"They are a spectacle, are they not?" murmured Lucius. Narcissa nodded. She was watching now as Rodolphus kept his arm locked about Bellatrix's tiny waist, possessively, even protectively. Narcissa had watched them together often before, and yet somehow had never seen the faint golden glow enveloping them both. Perhaps it had not been there to see.

Narcissa knew how Bellatrix could tear through men, could unleash her tempestuous passion and utterly consume whatever besotted fool was in her sights. Most of them seemed eager to burn, and Narcissa had assumed Rodolphus would be the same, his strength stolen and spent just as quickly as all the others. Yet now she reconsidered. She saw, as though through Second Sight, that Bellatrix drew strength from her fiancé without destroying him, and in return, he seemed bolstered by her wild spirit, not overwhelmed by it. Had, Narcissa wondered, Bellatrix found herself engaged to a rare man, one who could be struck by her lightning and yet avoid incineration?

Narcissa thought of her earlier conversation with her sister, when Bellatrix had so disdained the notion of love. _'If such a thing should capture Bella,'_ she thought, as Rodolphus lifted Bellatrix's hair aside to drop a kiss on her neck, _'I wonder if she would even recognise it for itself.'_

**_Finis_**


End file.
